Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I’m a fucking ghost back to haunt his former life. I can’t actually touch it. Can’t actually taste it. Definitely can’t feel a goddamn thing. My life’s turned to shades of grey. Or maybe it’s still in color but with one of those grainy filters that makes the images dull and cold.
Rocco moves the razor across my skin expertly. I wish Arturo hadn’t brought it up because now all I can think about is how easy it would be for him to slice my jugular.
Would he do it? I used to be so secure in my bond with La Famiglia. The guys in this room could be trusted with my life. We were loyal to each other, to the Outfit. Everyone else, we locked out.
Now I don’t trust any of them. And Rocco’s not in the family. He’s just an Italian small business owner who benefits from our patronage. He might hate all our guts. I used to think he treated us like royalty because he loved having us here. He liked the tips and the business. But who knows? Maybe he’s just scared like everybody else.
Maybe he’s collecting information, waiting for a moment to rat us all out.
Or maybe I’m in a paranoid mind-fuck I need to escape from.
The shave ends, and I view my image in the mirror. My jaw is smooth, but I look like a fucking corpse. Stone-faced. Dead eyes. Rotted out heart.
I stand and pay.
Arturo calls out when I head straight for the door. “You’re not gonna hang around? What? You got something better to do?”
“Damn straight. He’s gotta find a girl to exercise that dick of his,” Angel chortles.
“Yeah,” I agree. “That.”
Marco and Leo watch me, seeing more than I wanna show. “You don’t need a ride?” Marco asks. He drove me here.
“Nah, I’m good.” I just want to be alone. Get the hell outta here. I lift my hand to them all and walk out.
Fanculo, that was painful. Even the simplest acts of living are like kneeling on sand now.
I gotta figure out how to wake the fuck up.
Chapter Six
Armando
I walk out of Rocco’s.
It feels foreign to be able to do so. To be able to simply walk outside and breathe in fresh air of my own free will. No prison guard standing nearby while I enjoy my scheduled yard time. No fencing and barbed wire. Nothing but pure freedom.
It’s a strange sensation. After so many years of confinement, the wide-open world has become like another planet. It’s like I’m a stranger in a foreign land, with no idea of where to go or what to do now that I’m free. Surrounded by bustling people, their conversations and laughter filling the air, it all seems almost out of body.
“Hey,” I hear Marco’s voice from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder and see Marco and Leo following me out the door.
“I’m fine. Really,” I say, actually meaning what I said that I want to be alone.
“I know you’re going through shit,” Leo begins, “But Arturo is right. You’re going to rebuild your life. It will start feeling like normal soon.”
Marco places his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink or something.”
“Nah, I know you guys have work to do today. I’m not a charity case.” I take the time to look each of my cousins in the eyes. “I’m fine. I just need to go for a walk and get my shit in order. I appreciate it though.”
I can tell by the way they both side eye each other that they don’t want to leave me, but I’m right in the fact that they do need to get to work. La Famiglia is calling.
“Fine,” Marco finally says. “But later. Drinks on me.”
I nod and watch them both hop into Leo’s car without another word. Grateful that they didn’t put up too much of a fight, I decide to get out of the line of fire of Rocco’s. I don’t want another person to come out and feel pity for me and feel like they need to entertain me or something, so I begin to walk.
I know this neighborhood so well. Rocco’s and then the florist, Garden of Eden, next door used to be part of my usual routine. A shave and then buy flowers for Grace. It was a comfortable routine. And now that I just had my shave, I realize I have no reason to walk next door to the florist. Who would I buy flowers for now?
Shaking my head, I know I need to give up this fucking pity party. I’m a free man. I should stop moping around. But the shackles of my past still cling to my wrists and ankles, dragging on my limbs. It’s hard for me to feel happy or optimistic about the future when I am constantly reminded of the darkness of my past.